


pizza

by memitims



Series: chicago pd [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Date Night, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mickey takes ian on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pizza

Karen stormed into Mickey’s office and plopped herself down on his desk, like she owned it. Mickey gave her a look, one of his special _what the fuck_ looks, that he reserved for Ian’s taste in music and Karen Jackson. 

“Hi,” she said, her hair bouncing against her shoulders. When Mickey had first met her, he’d thought she was one of those perky girls that smiled all the time, made of sunshine and flowers and shit. Then, he accidentally ate one of her yogurts from the precinct refrigerator, and learned that Karen could be scary as fuck. Like, she almost murdered him over a fucking yogurt. He never crossed her again.

“Don’t mess up my piles,” Mickey returned in greeting, because she was dangerously close to knocking over his stack of papers on the Warren case. 

Karen grinned at him and scooted around on his desk, fuckin’ testing him, and Mickey didn’t even know why they were friends. 

“Ian’s been moping for like two days straight,” she told him, as if Mickey didn’t already know this, as if he’d gotten more than a couple of grunts and some shrugs out of the guy for the past couple days. Mickey had even invited Ian over to his place after work, but Ian had just told him _sorry, I’m not really in the mood_ (Mickey had called Debbie after that, to make sure he was okay, to make sure he was taking his meds, and she told him that he was, that wasn’t why he was so down, it was because their brother Lip hadn’t been able to make it to Chicago for Thanksgiving, and it didn’t look like Christmas was gonna happen either, and Ian missed his brother, and thank you very much for the CD, I like it more than the last one). Mickey had never meet Lip, only heard Ian talk about him, knew he was a year or two older and did fancy schmancy robotics stuff down in California, but hardly ever had time to come back up to Chicago. 

“I’m going crazy,” continued Karen.

“Tell me about it,” Mickey said, glumly. 

“He doesn’t even want to use the goddamn microscope,” Karen exclaimed. “Who the fuck doesn’t want to use the microscope?” She paused for a second and Mickey could see the gears spinning in her head. “You gotta do something about it.”

“Me?” Mickey asked. “Why me?”

“Uh,” Karen said, like he was stupid, “You’re his boyfriend.”

Mickey sucked at his teeth, thinking. Karen’s back was awfully close to his coffee mug of pencils and pens, so he reached out and grabbed it, placing it in a much safer place on his desk. 

“Valid point.” He held up his hands in concession. 

“You should take him on a date,” she said. “There’s a new pizza place a few blocks over, he’d love that.”

Mickey nodded. Karen was right. Food usually helped Ian cheer up when he wasn’t feeling so hot, especially good food, and the best food in Chicago was pizza. 

“Fine,” Mickey groaned, because he couldn’t let Karen know that her idea was _that_ good, couldn't add to her already huge ego. And then, “Shit. I don’t have any money.” Which was true, he’d just paid off all the bills and child support and stuff and he didn’t get paid til the end of the week. 

Mickey looked up at Karen, pouting a little bit, and he might’ve batted his eyelashes a few times, but no one had to know that. He was joking, of course, because Mickey never borrowed money from anyone, his father had taught him that lesson growing up, but having friends was weird and Karen had a knack for making Mickey feel like he could act stupid and silly and he didn’t have to keep up his façade of a boring loser who never had any fun. She and Ian both had this kind of scary voodoo magic that tricked Mickey into being himself.

“Ew, no,” Karen said. “I’m not giving you money, fuckhead. Go rob an ATM or something.”

Mickey laughed. “That would be illegal. And I’m a cop. Or do they not teach you anything at forensics school or wherever the hell you got your degree?”

Karen flipped him off. “Go take Ian on a date, asshole. Or I’ll kill you both with a pair of dissection scissors.”

\---

Mickey found Ian sitting in the corner of his lab, reading one of his nerdy magazines under the dim light of a lamp. Mickey grabbed the magazine out of Ian’s hands and tossed it to the side.

“C’mon. We’re going on a date,” he announced. 

“Wow,” Ian deadpanned, glancing over at the magazine with a sad look on his face, like Mickey had fuckin’ killed it and he was mourning the loss of his magazine friend. “Ever the romantic.”

Mickey wrapped his hands around Ian’s shoulders and pulled him up from the chair. “Alright, you listen to me, Gallagher. I’m gonna take you on a fuckin’ date and I’m gonna pay for your fuckin’ dinner and I’m gonna fuckin’ kiss you on the way home and I might even hold your fuckin’ hand under the table. That romantic enough for you?”

Ian laughed. “Okay, Prince Charming. Lead the way.”

So Mickey did. He waved goodbye to Karen on the way out, who handed Mickey the address of the pizza place and told Ian not to order extra garlic. 

“He’ll kiss me anyways,” Ian said. “He’s a total sucker.”

Mickey thwacked him on the side of the head, but didn’t deny it. 

It was a cold night, not quite cold enough for snow, but you could see your breath in the darkness. Mickey drifted closer to Ian, because he was really cold, of course, and not because he really liked it when their shoulders brushed, and he could catch little whiffs of Ian’s cologne, and he could watch the endearing way Ian scrunched up his face against the harsh bite of the wind. Of course not.

“So, where you taking me?” Ian asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his gigantic winter coat to protect them from the cold. Mickey thought, for a second, about grabbing Ian’s hand with his own and tangling them together, but he pushed that idea away fast. It was too stupid, too mushy, and there were almost at the place anyways. 

“It’s a surprise,” Mickey said, as he pushed open the door of Pepper’s Pizza, and Ian just crossed his arms and leveled a glare at Mickey. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” 

“I know I’m funny,” Mickey smirked. Ian ushered him into one of the nearby booths and rolled his eyes.

\---

The booth was cramped, but Mickey secretly didn’t mind, because it meant their legs got all tangled under the table. They both ordered a couple slices of pepperoni and waited. 

The place was new and shiny and polished, and the waitress was nice, but the walls were covered with huge, tacky decorations that made Mickey gag. No one wanted to stare at a giant fuckin’ humanoid pizza with eyes and shit, while they were eating pizza.   
Mickey told Ian this.

“Oh my god,” Ian said. “You’re such a snob.”

“I am _not_ a snob,” Mickey retorted, indignantly. “I just appreciate tasteful decorations.”

“Dude, your apartment is like completely bare. You appreciate no decoration.” Ian laughed at him from across the table, nothing huge, but it still made Mickey’s chest tighten because he had missed Ian’s stupid laugh.

Mickey gave him that one. They sat for a minute, in silence, swinging their legs under the table, and Mickey could just feel himself relaxing after a long day of work, could feel Ian’s mere presence calming him down and reminding him that life was good and letting him catch his breath in a world Mickey felt he was drowning in. 

“You okay though?” he asked Ian, his voice serious. “Really?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah, I am. Sorry about the past couple days. I’ve just been bummed about Lip and stressed out at work and I can’t get a fucking thing done in my house, no one will ever shut up.”

Mickey shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for. You might want to watch out for Karen, though. She’s not opposed to murder when people are getting on her nerves.” He knew Ian got like this, every once in a while, he’d told Mickey and Karen about his bipolar disorder way back in the beginning, and Ian had called Mickey a ‘giant fucking nerd’ when Mickey started reading about it, but Ian had told him once, in the soft darkness of the patrol car, that he was grateful Mickey had, because most people usually just brushed off that part of Ian and ignored it (Mickey hadn’t know, at the time, how fucking screwed he was over Ian, but it was kinda funny now, looking back). There hadn’t been many incidents since then, and Mickey knew how to deal with it, but luckily, this was just Ian sulking about Lip.

“Ugh,” Ian said. “I know. She threatened to kill me with a pair of scissors if I didn’t go on a date with you.”

“What?” Mickey asked, incredulous. “She threatened me with the scissors, too, if I didn’t take you out.”

Ian laughed, shaking his head fondly. “She’s a sneaky little fucker.”

Their pizza came, delivered by a waitress whose bright red lipstick matched the tomato sauce, and they dug in, eating in a comfortable silence. Ian made weird faces at him around his mouthful of pizza, trying to get Mickey to laugh, but Mickey remained stoic as ever because Ian wasn’t as funny as he thought he was. When that didn’t work, Ian went to town on the straw in his soda, sucking at it with his lips, making the tiniest and most aggravating noises he could, and he just fucking stared up at Mickey, his eyes wide and innocent. And okay, Mickey could feel his face flush a little bit and his pants were kinda uncomfortable, but he just sat there and ate his pizza, ignoring the little show across the table. 

Ian wasn’t stupid, though, and he smirked when Mickey adjusted himself for the third time.

“You’re a fucking dead man,” Mickey gritted out through his teeth. 

\---

Mickey, thankfully, resisted the urge to have hot, wild sex with Ian in the booth of the pizza place, but he did push Ian up against the hard bricks outside the store and kiss him breathless. Then he stepped back and pulled at Ian’s arm, dragging him down the street.

“Are you sure?” Ian whined. “There’s a dark alley right there.”

Mickey crossed his arms. “I’m not having sex with you in an alley. Especially in November. It’s fucking freezing.”

“You’re no fun.”

“No,” Mickey said, “I actually have a self-preservation instinct, unlike you. I don’t want to freeze my ass off.”

Ian groaned. He curled his arm around Mickey’s shoulder and held on tight, drawing Mickey in like he was the fucking sun or something, and Mickey was a goddamn sunflower. 

“Move in with me,” Mickey said, out of the blue, because there was something about the way Ian’s gloved fingers splayed against his neck and the way the flickering streetlights turned the ends of his hair bright copper and how Ian nudged their shoulders together that made Mickey say stupid things. 

“What?”

“I’m serious.” Mickey watched as their foggy breath twisted together in the darkness. “You said your house was too noisy and my apartment is quiet and I could make you breakfast and we could carpool to work.”

Ian drummed his fingers against his chin, thinking. “We could fuck whenever we wanted.”

“You have a one-track mind, don’t you, mister?”

Ian chuckled. He walked his hands down the front of Mickey’s coat, stopping at the top of his slacks. “No. You’re just distracting.”

(Later that night, when they collapsed in a sweaty tangle of limbs, Ian pressed a soft kiss to Mickey’s shoulder, the kind that made him feel like he was fuckin’ floating or some shit. 

“I never answered your question,” Ian breathed out, scraping his teeth gently against the hard jut of Mickey’s collarbone. 

“Mhmm?” Mickey asked, because he didn’t know how Ian was forming full sentences yet and his brain was still a little hazy, still trying to catch up.

“I’ll move in with you,” whispered Ian.

Mickey smiled and ran a hand through Ian’s hair. “Okay.”)


End file.
